The Black Sheep's Redemption

by Lynette Eason

  The funeral lasted about an hour. A very long hour where Demi had to consciously remind herself not to squirm.

  When it finally ended, Alan turned to her. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”

  Demi bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Alan, we’re going to take a little road trip. Another time, all right?”

  “Oh, right. Sure.” He gave them a tight smile and left through the side door.

  Demi felt the tension ease as she looked at Charles. “I’m sorry about all this. All I want right now is to just to be sure about who I am.”

  He placed an arm over her shoulders. “Don’t be sorry.” She shivered at the intensity of his gaze. “But I’ll tell you this. Even if you never remember anything, I already know who you are. You’re beautiful and sweet with an open loving nature that’s not easy to find. You have a strength in you that I don’t think even you fully understand. But I see it and I admire you. Very much.”

  Her heart tripped over itself at his gentle words. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Anytime.”

  * * *

  Demi’s excitement knew no limits as she and Charles walked to his truck. There, they found Ryan leaning against the vehicle. When he saw them, he climbed into the back. Before he shut the door, Demi asked, “You’re going with us?”

  Charles said, “In light of everything going on, we thought it might be best.”

  In other words, they were afraid someone would follow them. She gulped. “Okay.” Climbing into the front seat, some of her excitement faded.

  But not all of it.

  Buckling her seat belt, she turned to Charles. “Thanks for doing this.”

  He smiled at her. “No problem.”

  Ryan’s phone rang and he talked in a low voice. She heard something about a background check. Demi said to Charles, “Alan offered to take me. I…I didn’t want him to.”

  Charles put the truck in gear and she felt his eyes on her for a brief moment before he said, “I’m glad.”

  “I wanted to be with you,” she almost whispered.

  “And you feel guilty because of that?”

  Demi looked out her window and nodded. “Is that wrong?” she asked turning to look at him once again.

  Charles sighed. “No, I don’t think so. And not necessarily because you just want to be with me, although I’d like to think that’s why.” His wink made her flush but she couldn’t help the smile. And felt grateful for it. Charles continued, “But you know me. You’re comfortable with me. Alan? You don’t know anything about him. Why would you want a complete stranger sharing what’s bound to be an emotional experience?”

  Demi thought about that for a moment. She had to admit he was right. But she also silently admitted that she wanted to be with him and not Alan because she was in love with Charles. Not Alan.

  But apparently she’d loved Alan at one time. Hadn’t she?

  Confusion and frustration swirled. She’d wanted to know who she was. Now she wasn’t so sure she could handle everything that knowledge came with.

  Instead of blurting out her feelings with Ryan in the back, she simply said, “That’s true.”

  The rest of the drive was made in silence broken only by Ryan’s phone calls.

  He finally hung up just as they pulled into the hotel parking lot.

  Demi glanced around praying for a spark of a memory. It was a nondescript place, nothing fancy, but not a dump, either.

  “Let’s go see the clerk,” Charles said.

  Climbing out of the truck, Demi continued to push her brain. She had a flash, a different one this time. Of running down a dark alley, looking back over her shoulder. She could feel the terror spiking through her and she gasped.

  Charles turned and gripped her hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Just a memory, I think. I was scared and running from something.”

  He and Ryan exchanged a look. Together, Charles still holding her hand, they walked into the hotel. The empty lobby echoed their arrival.

  The clerk looked up and smiled. “Hi, I’m Martin Fields. You the folks I’m expecting?”

  “We are,” Charles said as he shook the man’s hand.

  The clerk’s eyes landed on Demi. “Sure, I remember you. Ms. Smith, right?”

  “Actually, it’s Townsend, but I guess I was registered under Smith.”

  Confusion flickered, but she felt quite sure it wasn’t the first weird story he’d heard. Mr. Fields said, “I’ll just get your things.”

  He disappeared into the back and when he returned, he was holding a laundry basket full of neatly folded clothes. A large cardboard box sat on top of the clothes.

  Carrying both items to the dining area to the left of the lobby, he set it down on one of the tables. “You didn’t have much and I’m not exactly sure why I kept it, but maybe it was the Lord’s leading.”

  Demi smiled. “I’m sure it was.”

  Anxiety gripped her. She inspected the laundry. Lifted a blue cotton dress from the top and shook it out. A memory flashed, but it was gone before she could grasp it. Another dress stared up at her. She set the first dress aside and ran her hands over the flower print on the second dress.

  “Demi?” Charles’s voice reached her through the fog of her scattered thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  “I wore this when I flew home,” she whispered.

  “You remember?”

  “Not really… .” She bit her lip. “And yet, I do. I remember hugging someone, a woman, in the airport. Then being on a plane.” She frowned. “But it’s so vague, just bits and pieces. Snatches here and there.”

  “That’s more than you had just a little while ago.”

  “True.” She looked in the cardboard box and pulled out a framed photograph. The woman wore a floppy hat and a long button up shirt. She had weathered skin and a big smile. The man beside her wore khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt. “My parents.”

  She knew it without question. And felt a longing to see them. Then wrap her arms around them.

  A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away.

  Charles’s comforting presence behind her gave her the strength to pull out the other items. A few toiletries, another picture with her, a young man in his early twenties. Who was he? A friend? A cousin? A brother?

  She frowned and went through the rest of the pictures. Biting her lip, she looked up at the men. “I don’t have a picture of Alan.”

  “You don’t?” Charles leaned closer.

  “No. I wonder why.”

  “Maybe you had it on you when you were attacked,” Ryan suggested.

  “Maybe.” She opened a small bag and pulled out a small card. “My driver’s license!”

  Looking at it, she read the address. “Forty-five Lenox Lane.”

  “That’s about twenty minutes from here,” the clerk said.

  When Charles lifted a brow at him, he shrugged. “I recognize that street. I used to drive a FedEx truck before getting into the hotel business a year ago.”

  “I want to go home.” As soon as she said the words, the fear hit her. She began to shake.

  “Demi?” Ryan asked.

  Charles gripped her fingers. “What is it?”

  “I can’t go home. It’s not safe there,” she blurted out.

  Charles looked at Ryan. “How far from her home was she found?”

  Ryan pulled out his iPhone and looked it up. “About thirty minutes in the opposite direction from where we are.”

  The sliding glass door of the hotel shattered inward, spraying them all.

  EIGHTEEN

  More bullets peppered the area, and Charles felt his back sting. Had he been shot? No, he’d been shot before and
this didn’t feel like that.

  Without stopping to think, he grabbed Demi and pulled her to the floor. Ryan tackled the clerk. Charles was only seconds behind Ryan in drawing his weapon and heading in the direction from where the shots had come.

  He saw a flash from the parking garage across the street and another bullet slammed into the floor in front of him. He ducked and rolled.

  “Stay here!” Charles yelled over his shoulder at Demi and the clerk. Not waiting to see if they obeyed him, he and Ryan reached the inside of the first set of sliding glass doors and huddled in the corner. He wasn’t sure the shooter was finished.

  Ryan copied him on the opposite side.

  Warm outside air rushed over Charles, blowing in through the gaping hole in the second set of glass doors. On the street pedestrians cowered behind whatever shelter they could find. Screams still echoed.

  “Stay down!” Ryan shouted. “Stay down!”

  Someone had followed them. The thought made Charles’s gut churn. They’d been careful, took a winding route, watched their backs. How had they been followed?

  And the guy shot into a hotel? Why? That was crazy, wasn’t it? What were the odds of hitting a target shooting through two sets of glass doors?

  The question puzzled him. But one thing was certain.

  Whoever was after him was determined to rub him out of the picture.

  But not if Charles found him first. His jaw felt tight enough to shatter. He looked toward the parking garage again. To Ryan, he said, “He’s using a high-powered rifle and he’s on the third floor of that garage. I’m going after him.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Charles glared at Ryan. He wasn’t the law in this city, but he was still his brother. “I have to.”

  Ryan shook his head. “We need to wait for backup.”

  “By then he’ll be gone. This has to end now.”

  Charles took off for the parking garage.

  Feet pounding the pavement, he heard Ryan yelling at him to stop. But he couldn’t. He had to find the shooter. His military training kicked in and he zigzagged across the open street to hit the parking garage where the shots had come from. He expected to feel a bullet slam into him and was almost surprised when it didn’t happen.

  Ryan’s shouts still rang in his ears. But he couldn’t stop now. He hit the parking garage full-on, weapon drawn. Fortunately, it was mostly empty.

  Breaths coming in pants, he scanned the first floor, then headed for the second. Footsteps behind him made him spin.

  “Ryan.”

  The fury in his brother’s eyes didn’t faze him. The sudden sounds of sirens in the distance didn’t stop him. The law enforcement officers descending upon the garage didn’t deter him.

  He wanted his life back and he was going to go get it.

  * * *

  Demi felt the hand on her shoulder and turned, thinking Charles had returned through the back door. Instead, she came face-to-face with Alan Gregor. “What are you doing here?” she nearly shrieked. “Are you crazy? Someone’s shooting at us!”

  “I know.” Sweat dripped from his brow. “I knew you were coming here and wanted to be here for you. But I knew you were with…him.”

  “Then why are you here now?” She flicked her gaze toward the door where Charles and Ryan had disappeared. Still no sign of the men—or the shooter.

  Alan was saying, “I wanted to be here for you, Demi. I…well, it was my place to be the support you needed. So, I came anyway.” He licked his lips and swiped at the sweat running down a ruddy cheek. “But when I got here, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I should come in or not. Then the bullets started flying. I had to get in here and make sure you were okay.”

  She couldn’t be too upset with the man. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t remember him. She thought it touching that he would risk his life to help her.

  Sirens sounded, lights flashed. Law enforcement descended upon the hotel and the surrounding area.

  He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s find a better place to hide.”

  “No, I need to stay here. Charles and Ryan went after the shooter and I need to wait on them.”

  “And what if the shooter decides to come inside? What will you do then?”

  He had a point.

  Both men had left. But there’d been no more shots. Maybe they already had him in custody.

  “The police are here now,” she said. “I think we’ll be safer in here than out there.”

  Alan’s hands gripped her shoulders. “Come with me, please, Demi. I…I need you to.”

  His intensity shook her. Why was this so important to him? “Alan…”

  Tears pooled in the man’s eyes as they hunkered behind the overturned table. “I thought I’d lost you forever. Now I’ve found you and I need you to come with me. Let me keep you safe this time. Just…let me do that, will you?”

  Her heart thudded. Compassion filled her along with the certainty of what she needed to do. She had to tell Alan she couldn’t marry him. She needed to call off the engagement. But now definitely wasn’t the time. And she wasn’t going anywhere with Alan in spite of his apparent need to be her hero in this.

  “Come out the back way,” he was saying. “I think it’s safe now.”

  She started to refuse, then paused. Officers would be out there. Maybe Charles and Ryan.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

  Demi let him lead her toward the back of the hotel. As they opened the door a SWAT member descended upon them. “Hands up, hands up!”

  They threw their hands in the air and were led to a safe area.

  Demi lowered her hands and Alan clutched one as he pulled the baseball cap lower on his forehead with the other. “They’re going to want us to give statements.”

  Nodding, only half listening, Demi looked around, taking in the chaotic sights and sounds surrounding her. Where was Charles? And Ryan?

  Officers separated them as they questioned them. Demi gave the details she could remember even while her eyes scanned the area. Was the shooter gone? Had he managed to get away? Or had Charles and Ryan been able to get to him? Now that she was behind the police-erected safety barriers, she couldn’t see the parking garage.

  Please God, keep them safe.

  * * *

  Charles watched Ryan slink toward where he was sure the bullets had come from. Charles hung around the building, watching Ryan’s back. His brother had finally convinced him that while Charles had training as a soldier, he wasn’t a cop and couldn’t go around acting like one.

  But he didn’t like it. The waiting, the watching was as nerve-racking here as it had been in Iraq. The familiar tension tightening his shoulders and the rock in his gut—that had started while in the service—returned with a vengeance.

  “Clear!” Ryan called. “But he was here.” Charles joined him at the edge of the wall of the parking garage. Bullet casings littered the area. A French fry nudged the wall and Charles looked at Ryan.

  “Where’s the nearest trash can?”

  “Over there.”

  Charles walked over, covered his hand with his shirt, and nudged the top off. It landed with a clatter. Looking inside, he saw several fast food wrappers and drink cups. “All of this needs to be gathered for evidence.”

  “The CSU team will get that.”

  Charles walked back to the where the shooter had made himself comfortable and pointed to the scrape on top of the wall. “Look. That’s where he rested the weapon.”

  Ryan sighed and shook his head as he walked away to check out the rest of the area.

  But something nagged at him. Again, he studied the surrounding area as the CSU team arrived. Ryan flashed his ID, indicated Charles was
with him and the officers got to work.

  Charles pulled out his phone and dialed Demi’s cell number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. He frowned. Why wouldn’t she answer? He tried again.

  Again, no answer.

  Had she been hurt and he hadn’t realized it?

  A restless need to get back to Demi washed over him. He looked around. There was nothing more he could do here anyway.

  And still something wouldn’t leave him alone. He looked at the French fry, the trash can, the wall the shooter had hid behind.

  “He was waiting on us.”

  “What?” One of the officers looked up at him.

  “He knew we were going to be here. But how?” Desperately, his mind tossed around conversations he’d had concerning the trip here. He couldn’t remember who’d been around when they’d discussed it. But someone had found out and beat them here.

  Ryan was deep in conversation with one of the SWAT members. He pointed at Charles who walked toward them.

  “It’s clear,” the officer said. “Shooter fired several shots into the building. He was probably gone before we even got here.”

  “But why?” Charles asked, puzzled. “There was no way that bullet was going to come near me or anyone else.”

  “What was his purpose?”

  “Who knows?” Charles ran a hand through his hair and looked around. “I thought it was because he followed us here. He thought he’d finally have a chance at me. But I don’t think we were followed. I think he knew we’d be here.” Charles explained his theory. “But you’d think he’d have picked a better spot. And why didn’t he just pick me off as we walked into the hotel?”

  “Because he’s not after you.”

  “What?”

  “He’s after someone else. Demi.”

  Charles processed Ryan’s words and horror hit him. “The shots were a distraction, is that what you’re saying?”

  “We’ve been concentrating so hard on who’s after you that we’ve ignored the fact that someone broke into Demi’s apartment and left the message.”

  “You don’t belong here,” Charles whispered, recalling the message. “Then someone believes she belongs somewhere else.”